


Out of all the reason you chose to stay, you chose me.

by SergeantErwin26



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Corruption, Discrimination, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Insecurity, M/M, Mild Blood, Sad, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:21:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22291003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SergeantErwin26/pseuds/SergeantErwin26
Summary: Roger was a man with a red tape. Andy was a man with a black one. Novak wasn't any of them. Out of the corrupted world that they live in, will they survive? Unfortunate circumstance brought them together and they'll figure it out together.
Relationships: Novak Djokovic/Andy Murray, Slight Dominic Thiem/Alexander Zverev
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. Don't steal, because you'll get killed.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [It doesn't hurt (As long as you are with me)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21723703) by [lunasenzanotte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunasenzanotte/pseuds/lunasenzanotte). 



> This work was inspired by lunasenzanotte's story: It doesn't hurt (As long as you are with me). I love their story and by no means, and I mean it, to copy or take credit from their story. Though I did keep the tape, the self check-out and The Fence because those for me have really hit hard. I have also changed the looks and age to fits the story better, i hope you don't mind.

Roger sighed inwardly as he tucked himself in his jacket even further. Winter was here and it was bad for people like him.

"Move out of the way!" 

Somebody had viciously shoved Roger to the side and he stumbled, but then slowly regained his balance and continued in his track. The tape on his mouth was unbearable, too unbearable infact. He was wearing a white mask over the red tape on his mouth to avoid any discrimination against him. If only he hadn't spoken out against the government, then this wouldn't have had happened to him. People still knows though, knows that behind that white mask of Roger was a deadly tape against his mouth, making him unable to speak. 

It was made so he couldn't do what he wanted the most. Speak.

Everyday was absolutely miserable for Roger. Mirka had stopped calling long ago. It was understandable though. The phone calls weren't illegal, but there were more chances that the people who would risk their lives to actually call criminals could go to jail for the rest of their lives. Roger wasn't a criminal, he knew it deep within himself, but just his skinny self wasn't enough. With Mirka calling him not so often was already enough, but when she stopped calling completely, Roger had just became... Mute.

Exactly like how the public wanted him to be. 

Roger wasn't given a choice to be or not be mute, though he once was. He didn't want to be mute, never, but then again, he was just a person in a big, big society. Who was he to decide?

Reaching the supermarket, Roger exhaled through his mask and entered the heated place. It was plain, with the while old walls and the dirty broken white tiles and it wasn't an extraordinary place, but it was the only place that could keep Roger alive. People stared at him. They really did. Some threw the ungrateful look, some threw the glare and the most common one, the disgusted look. Though the mask it was there, the tape was red and it still stood out inside against the white, and people just seemed to ignore the tall man. The system was immensely broken, but Roger couldn't speak against that now. 

He once did.

Lucky for him, the self check-out was now an option and he no longer have to stand the tension and the unbearable silence that he would always have to share with the cashier. They were always too hasty, trying to get over with Roger to get on with another customer who apparently to them, wasn't a criminal. 

Roger was running out of money and his job definitely wasn't some high ranking ones, so all he got was canned soup and cheap bagged tea and with his coupons, he would hopefully get all of them under his money control. 

It was then that he saw a blue eyes and brown hair boy. 

He was tall, with shaggy short hair with bags under his eyes, so much like Roger but was so different. He was doing something. He was sneaking things into his baggy sweater with a normal look on his face. He was going to get killed if someone catches him. Roger wanted, so desperately wanting to move on with his shopping trip, to get the cheap food and to get out of here, to hide away from all the hating gaze he was receiving, but he couldn't. 

The last thing Roger would want was to have anymore people fall hopelessly into the trap of this hell hole of a system that would kill you without a bat of an eye, or even a simple warning before shooting you like that's their everyday job, killing people like that. 

But to some people, it was indeed their everyday job.

Their cold hands collided as Roger held firmly on the tall boy's bony wrist. Roger was tall, definitely was but the foreign boy was taller but not the lanky kind of type. He was just taller than people, that was all. 

"What are you doing?" Asked the boy with a heavy accent. It sounded strange, like he was from Russia or somewhere else and that he wasn't meant to be here. Roger just shook his head and downcast his eyes to the things that were in the boy's baggy sweater's pockets. 

"I need them." The boy hisses, sounding deadly in his accent as he yanked his wrist out of Roger's grip. The boy didn't know. He didn't know what would happen to him if he was to be arrested for stealing food. If a tape to the mouth forever and the fear of losing his life was from speaking up, then stealing food from the store with bad intentions will only get the foreign boy to be executed.

More or less a tape to the mouth like Roger.

With one pale hand, Roger removed half of his mask, the other side still hung around his ear. The red tape was screaming to be tear off, but his intentions wasn't to do that. Roger wanted, needed to show the boy what will become of him if he ever dared to defy or break a rule in the system. 

The boy just intently stared at the red tape, seemingly curious but his grip on the food didn't loosen. There couldn't be another person who would willing to be like him. A foreign, heavy-accented young boy shouldn't die because of one mistake, because of the dreadful government and the corrupted policies. The best thing Roger could do was pay for the food and see the boy be safe. 

After putting his mask back into place, he ended up dragging the boy by his bony wrist to the self check-out. The curses that were thrown at him was vulgar and strange but at the same time, Roger could somewhat understand that the boy was insulting him to his core. They were gaining attentions, including the security guards, so he just very quietly tried to pry away from Roger's grip but it wasn't working. At the check-out, Roger scanned his food before he scanned the stranger's too. 

"What are you doing?" The boy had asked quietly, looking like he was ready to bash Roger in the head if he would do anything more suspicious. Roger was running out of money, but he couldn't stand it if this boy get killed and it was him who could’ve stop that. 

Roger put the foreign boy's things a separate bag and gave it to him. All he did was snatched the bag and ran out. Roger inwardly sighed, but froze when he heard the screaming.

"Thief! Thief!" 

Grabbing his own bag, he dashed out of the old supermarket. Outside the old building, Roger could see the foreign boy watching the current scene so intensely with his pale eyes. Relief course through the taped man at the still standing boy, but soon he looked in the same direction. 

There was a dead body on the ground, blood around them and it seemed to stand out so much in the dirty, cold ground. Lying next to them was canned foods and bottles of water, all covered in blood. 

Roger tore his eyes away from the bloody sight, ignoring the people around him. There weren't anyone anyway, they all scattered in the sight of the police shooting someone but Roger didn’t know that. He was busy watching.

Roger's blonde hair wavered in the cold gush of wind as his free hand was shoved in the pocket of his old jacket. The blond man was about to leave, not wanting to see the sight of the police cleaning up the body but stopped dead in his track. 

"Jelena!" 

It was the tall boy, screaming a name that Roger did not know of. There were footsteps, then the sound of someone that broke into a run. 

"Jelena! Jelena, no! What are you doing to her?! Jelena!" 

The shout was agonizing, so painful yet so desperately. There were sounds of something metallic being dropped to the ground, then the sound of struggling. The blonde man looked around and noticed there weren't any witnesses here other than himself. They were either taking a hiding in the supermarket or closed off in their own home. Making a scene wasn't going to please the police. 

Roger just wanted, his desire so strongly wanting to leave, it wasn't his business here anymore, but a shout from the police and the sound of someone else hitting the ground was enough for Roger to unconsciously take a step forward the sickening scene. One of the policeman had bashed his gun against the boy's head in order to stopped him from reaching the dead body. 

The corpse had the hood of their jumper on and the was face facing the ground, so Roger didn't have a clue of what the person looked like. But now, the hood was off. It was definitely a woman, with the long hair spread out like that. The hair was blonde, but not extremely pale like Roger's. There were red against the blonde colour though. 

It was blood.

The police had kicked the boy after knocking him out and spat at him. They cleaned the corpse, the things that were on the ground and the blood, glaring at Roger in the distant before going with the corpse in a disposal bag. Roger gulped. The scene was horrible, but Roger had seen worse in jail. He shuddered before speed walking to the lifeless boy on the ground. If he ran, it might seem suspicious and the police might knock him out and shoot him after too.

The metallic sound was from the foreigner's bag, things rolling out. Roger frantically shook him, slapping his hollow check against the stubble of the boy. He couldn't leave him here, the boy will freeze to death without even having the food that he attempted to steal. Someone was yelling thief too, and Roger wondered if the boy and the girl were doing the stealing together. 

Roger was weak with the little food he had everyday in his empty fridge. He couldn't carry the boy, but he couldn't leave him here either. Despite the weather, Roger was sweating. He had tried to act was normal as possible, not wanting to be killed for no reason, but the act was falling apart now. No one was around to tell him what to do and he so desperately wanting to know. But it was his life, and he just had to do it on his own, like all the years that he had done the same thing. 

The boy was taller than him, so he had trouble trying to carry him on his back. With one hand occupied and the other shaking wasn't helping. The pale blonde man was holding two bags now, his and the stranger's. The other hand was to keep the boy from falling off his back. Roger was lucky, being that his apartment was close to the supermarket. It was a short trip, but Roger was quickly running out of breath and strength. 

The tape was becoming a nuisance, not that it wasn't everyday, but he was close to home and then he can take the tape off. The dangling tall body behind him was getting heavier each movement and Roger was sweating cold sweat. Unlocking his door, Roger threw the boy on the couch. Not that he literally did it, but any longer and both Roger and the boy will collapse. He set the plastic bags down and seemed distracted, not knowing what to do. 

The blond man took off his mask then peel off his tape. He took a long deep breath in and exhaled heavily. The boy's head seemed damage, and a head injury is something Roger didn't know how to fix or rather, cure. Roger took his fluffiest pillow and placed it carefully under the damaged head, careful not to hurt the boy when he was knocked out. 

He took the canned food out, peeled the lid off and slowly ate it on his small kitchen table. He ran a hand through his wavy pale blond hair and sighed. He hadn't eaten for sometimes now, and even if all he could afford was some cheap tea and food, Roger was grateful. He was hoping that Mirka would ring, so consciously waiting, but he couldn't even remember when was the last time that she had called. 

When the news got out that there will be severe consequences for breaking a tiny simple law, Mirka had stopped calling completely. To everyone, he was a criminal, to even his family. Mirka wasn't related by blood to him, but with her calls, he wasn't so lonely. He was not what they wanted him to be, a mute. Muted with no one to talk to and no way to associate. But there was one person calling him and talking to him, and that was enough. At least he wasn't what they wanted, no, made him to be. 

But he was now. With the lonely years that he came through, he had never felt so lonely and disturbed now. Roger had just witnessed a murder, even if he hadn't seen the shooting, he had seen the corpse, seen the blood and the lifeless body of a woman, doing nothing but apparently stealing a few bottles of water and food. He had seen the boy, a stranger that he saved from having the same fate as the girl, screamed his head off in desperation in reaching a dead body, a corpse, just to get bashed in the head with a gun and to be spat at. He would lay there with a broken head to freeze to death in the cold winter if no one were to save him.

This society, this system, the government were abused, broken and cruel. People were being sent to labour and prison camps everyday or being executed. It was ironic how Roger wasn't dead yet, with how the crime he committed was enough to be killed. 

The blond ate up the last of his canned food and ironically started laughing hysterically. He couldn't believe he was still alive after all these years, and with a cold stranger on his couch that was knocked out. 

It was a sad laugh, with bitterness and with sorrow, filled with no hope for tomorrow. The day was gloomy with no sun, filled with depressing people. Roger so desperately wanted to cross The Fence, but he himself had never seen it before. People had tried to escape, to cross the checkpoints and into the zone. Some made it, some didn't. Crossing the checkpoints was one thing, and crossing the border was another completely different thing. Roger had heard of people being sent back and got executed for trying to escape. He never blames them, he would too. But he couldn't right now.

When curfew came, barely anyone was outside the roads anymore. Roger had dragged a chair infront of the boy that was resting on the sofa just to sit and watched him while drinking his cheap hot tea. A blanket was draped on top of the boy and Roger just stared. He wondered what would happen if he didn't stop the teenager from stealing today. 

The person that the foreigner seemed to know was killed, and that was cruel and painful. Roger sighed, his thoughts drifting back to the earlier encounter. The police was vicious, and they glared at Roger like he was a piece of dirt, no longer a human being in this broken society. 

The sly smiles in the end was unforgettable though, how they looked at him like they broke him, through the white mask to pry at the red tape that was stuck on his mouth. They'd be happy if the pale blond wasn't wearing the tape though, they would finally have a reason to wipe him out of society, maybe even with a sicker way than the dead woman today. 

Roger stuck out a skinny arm to reached and touched the boy's face. The teenager stirred, seemingly sleeping and not knocked out cold anymore. Roger thought he would wake him up and shove him out of his apartment, because who knew what the government was going to assume when a criminal have an unconscious body laying on the sofa. Roger decided against that though and ran a slender hand through his wavy blond locks. His hair was so pale, a washed out blond colour that almost seemingly white just like his skin. He was unhealthy, very unhealthy and he knew that, but it's not like he could afford anymore food or a trip to the clinic. Most doctors would deny to check his health anyway, being that a red tape was very obviously sticking to his mouth. 

The boy grunted quietly on his old sofa, shifting his position under the blanket and turned his back to Roger. The mute thought of calling Dominic, his custodian, but shook the thought out. Dominic was a busy man, running over documents and files all over the place and wouldn't want to be disturb just because Roger was lonely, something he dealt with for the last four years of his life. 

Now that there was a person here he couldn't even talk to them. Life was unfair, and sometimes he wondered what would happen if he quit his job, threw the tape away and escape, but then he could feel the piercing eyes of the people and the police around the street haunting him until he could go insane and kill himself. 

That wasn't going to happen anytime soon. 

After washing his mug, he went to shower, brushed his teeth and went to bed straight away. He really needed to sleep. Just when he thought he could fall into oblivion where he didn't have to worry about anything, his phone rang.

"Roger? Are you there?" It was Dominic who was ringing him and checking on him. Roger was glad and for the first time in years, he almost, almost smiles. He didn't though, he had been told that his smile was ugly, but he shouldn't care about it because no one could see over that red tape anyway. Back then it hit Roger hard, making him feeling terribly sad, but he doesn't care about that now. It still bothers him and he doesn't smile anymore, but the people that said that about him wasn't worth it even for a person like him to think about. 

"Yes, Dominic. I'm here." Roger answered.

"Are you outside?" Dominic asked, voice smooth. 

"No, I'm inside my apartment right now, it's after curfew anyway. I'm about to go to sleep." Roger said as he yawned.

"Oh, sorry about that, I was worried about you. It seemed a little early for you to go to sleep. Did something happen today?" Dominic was smart, very smart, but sometimes he was too smart and was picking things up a little too fast for Roger to handle.

"Yeah, you got that right." Roger said, voice tired.

"Well, I hope that you're alright. Well, I guess I'll leave you be now. Goodnight, Roger." 

The blond was about to say the same thing then hang up but a question suddenly hit him.

"Wait, Dominic, I've got a question." Roger asked, somewhat worried.

"Yeah, go ahead." 

"Is it ok if I have someone over at my house?" He asked his custodian.

"Yeah, of course, as long as none of you comes out after curfew. Curfew is basically a law on it's own, so as long as you don't do anything stupid, that's alright I guess." Dominic said, suspicion laced in his voice.

"Yeah, thanks, Dominic." 

"You're welcome." Roger was about to hang up when Dominic suddenly said,

"And Roger?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Stay safe, ok?" Dominic hung up.

Roger was lucky to have such a nice custodian who would willing to call him like that. The man had been with him since he was a teenager, moving out of his family and to live on his own as his crime was too much for his family to handle. It was actually the blond's idea that he would move out, because he couldn't face the pained expression on his family after he spoke out.

Roger really needed to sleep.

Charging his phone, he allowed to fall into oblivion, not letting himself to be interrupted again. He would deal with everything tomorrow. Now, he just needs some time to himself.

_____

Roger woke up early, he couldn't sleep anymore so he decided to get up anyway. He had work today and he needed to get ready. Staring at himself in the mirror, he just look. Roger noticed how his hair was messy after his sleep, how the bags under his eyes are not dissipating, how his high nose was scratched and how his mouth was colourless from all the taping everyday, everytime that he needed to go out. He was a mess, and that couldn't get any more true. 

Splashing water on his face and running a wet hand through his messy hair, he came out of the small bathroom. Roger got dressed pretty quickly, with a plain shirt, pants, a long scarf, a sweater and his old jacket. His warmest jacket. It had started to snow already, and he didn't want to freeze walking to work. He could see his breath puff out on the cold air, disappearing seconds later.

He definitely wouldn't see that outside. 

Canned food, shoes, work, lunch, work, home. That was Roger's routine everyday for the last four years in his life. He dropped out of highschool, being that a criminal wasn't welcome there, and started to work early. His morning today however, was different. Very so different.

He went and checked on the stranger that was on his sofa, and just stared. It was a bad habit of his, staring. But you really couldn't blame him. He was mute, with a tape that didn't allow him to talk, to associate with anyone outside, and who would want to come in a home of a so called criminal? Anyone with a tape on their mouth was a criminal, and anyone that was supposed to wear one but doesn't wear it will get shoot at. Roger didn't want to die, so he just stared. He stared at people as much as they stared at him. Roger stared at the children when their mothers cover their eyes when they walk past Roger. He stared at everything, because that was the only way that he could communicate, could absorb and show his emotions. 

What he didn't notice was that a pair of pale eyes was staring back at him. 

"Where am I?" The boy asked in a very quiet tone, but Roger just stared. It was his instinct to do so, to stare when people speak, because he couldn't speak back either way.

But now he could, but he didn't.

The bond pale man just sat on the chair that brought into the living room yesterday, and smiles. 

The first time in years he smiles, but it wasn't even genuine. Not one bit of it. He smiled to show the boy that he was safe, that Roger wouldn't hurt him, even if he was sure the boy could knock him out in one punch. The boy stared back peacefully, but suddenly something inside his mind clicked. 

"Jelena, Jelena..." The boy's eyes stings, because he was about to cry. Jelena was dead, was he supposed to laugh and be happy? 

"You're the guy, the guy that stopped me from stealing." The boy said, louder now as it seemed like he swallowed down his tears. He struggled however, with his accent and his broken English. Roger didn't care. This was the first time anyone had come to talk to him. 

"Why am I here?" He questioned, eyes looking around suspiciously but he didn't sit up. It was too exhausting for him, Roger reckoned.

"You got bashed in the head with a rifle. You were trying to reach the blonde girl." Roger said, emotionless. It was his chance to talk, to spill out everything but even then, it wasn't about him. He didn't know how to do that. 

"You bring me here?" He asked, face surprised.

"I couldn't leave you to die." Roger said, leaning closer.

"I, I need to get back to Andy." The boy scrambled up, looking around frantically as he whispered the sentence. 

"You need to rest. A head injury is not something that you can heal after one night of sleep." Roger pushed him back by the shoulder.

"Do you have my things? Food?" He asked. Roger nodded. 

"Do you want to have them now? I can heat them up for you." 

"No, no. They are for Andy." He murmured, bringing his hands to cover his face in vain.

"Jelena. Jelena..." The brunette whispered her name over and over with hands over his face as Roger sat and stared. 

"Where they bring her to?" He finally asked.

"They put her in a disposal bag. Where, I do not know." Roger plainly said, voice without a drop of emotions. It's strange how just yesterday he was equal to a whirlwind of emotions but today, he was just like a robot. He couldn't explain it, but Roger just couldn't be the emotional one right now, not when a person had seen his friend got shot and got bashed in the head with a rifle, waking up in a stranger's house and once again realising that their friend is dead. 

"A disposal bag?" The boy whispered hopelessly. "They couldn't even bury her in the fucking ground somewhere?!" The boy screamed in pain, hands gripping his hair and knuckles turned white, seemingly wanting to rip out the locks. 

"You need to be quiet. They'll come get you if you are too loud." Roger whispered softly, patting the boy's shoulder to sooth him down somewhat as the stranger that was on his couch sob in agony. 

"Andy, I need to get back to Andy." This time, they boy really did sat up and swatted away Roger's helping hand as he stumbled up, hands on his face as he wiped the tears away. He tripped.

"I told you to rest." Roger said as he stood up quickly and catches the boy. 

"What's your name?" Roger asked, feeling the need to finally do it. The taller boy managed to stare at him suspiciously even after his concussion, and backed away. It was unfair for Roger. He was the one that had carry the heavy body into his home, took care of him and by any chance saved his food. Not to mention that he paid for them as well. 

Roger frowned. He was about to say something when the boy speak up.

"Novak." 

The blond just stare at the brunet, not knowing what to say. They were like two people on two different planet, with no vicious ideas but were defensive, one really didn’t care at the moment though, and the other was very, very apprehensive about the situation. 

“You’re Serbian.” Roger breathed, voice light as he knew the name right away. He definitely didn’t know the boy, but the name just instantly clicked in his head like a puzzle piece. It was strange and foreign and it didn’t, never have and never will belongs to the land they are living on right now. 

It was a Serbian name, Roger knew it because he read it in a book. All about Serbia and how they live. About their culture, their names, their ways of living. 

How Serbia was a great, great little country with free people and their rights to speak up. Without the borderline curfews and definitely, definitely without the sick shooting. Without the corrupted system and the toxic people. 

There were actual pictures of the people there, wrapping themselves in warm clothes like Roger now, smiling as their noses and cheeks were red from the cold snow that were flowing down at the camera. They smiled so beautifully, wanting to show the world what Serbia was really like, without all the accusations, the stares and the tape. 

The book was banned and the author was now where to be seen. Anyone who request the book will, well, be reported and arrested. All the copies were to be burn and destroyed.

Roger had the book, but it was hidden somewhere in his apartment. If the authority found it especially like a taped man like him, he will definitely get into trouble. It wasn’t like that’s the only banned book he had. Roger had read several books of different countries and the more he read the more he became addicted. Addicted to the freedom that the people have in their free land and the way they live. Freely.

All the thoughts rushed in his mind so quickly and it absorbed him in so deeply that he need to blink twice before hearing what the Serb said.

“How do you know?” the look in his eyes were precautious as Roger stared back at the Serb.

“I just know.” 

Silence took over them again and Roger stared. They were both from different countries, but Roger was different. He was stuck here. The blond man was born in this terrible country in an unfortunate circumstance. Novak must’ve been different, considering that if he was born here he would loose his accent completely. 

“Do you want your food back?” Roger smiled, presuming that the Serb probably was thinking about getting his food back. Something was poking in his guts though. Roger was wondering why the Serb was here when his country was such a great one. 

“No, but Andy needs them.” He shook his head and look around, eyes darting up to the plain white ceiling, to the side where the smudge windows were covered with the blinds, down towards the old green couch that he was resting on and up to Roger who was smiling, blond wavy hair falling down to his eyes as his pale lips were curved into a smile. His knitted scarf looked warm against his neck and Novak wondered what this pale, kind looking man had done to deserve such a sad life.

Maybe it was Novak that had a sad life. 

Roger turned around and headed towards his small kitchen, eyes darting back to Novak to follow. 

“Careful not to trip, you’ve probably got a bad headache.” 

Roger was careful not to scare Novak away or rather to make him uncomfortable. He pointed at the kitchen table and Novak sat down.

“Why did you steal?” Roger asked, his back turning around to make warm tea for the Serb. He was expecting that the boy would leave right away, but was happy that he stayed. Roger doubted that the Serbian kid will make it 10 meters before face landing in the snow and would once again freeze to death. It wasn’t like a concussion was a pleasurable thing and that walking right after receiving one was a perfect way to be acting after waking up from one.

“I didn’t.” Novak glared at the back of the shorter male.

“That’s because I stopped you.” Roger added the water into the kettle to boil it before opening his cupboard to get the tea out.

“Andy needed them. Needs them.” Novak said, tone accented but it wasn’t heavily implied.

“Weren’t you going to go back to him? Whoever Andy is.” Roger asked as he poured the hot water in the mug, making sure not to burn himself.

“Now that you said it, I wondered why I am still here.” His tone was mockingly and Roger wondered why even if he did know. 

“Have this tea then go. I have work soon.” Roger set the mug down the table, pushing it towards the Serb.

“How do I know that you are not trying to kill me?” The Serb glared, and Roger scoffed. 

“You think I’m going to try to kill you after I carry you back here with your broken skull rather than to let you freeze to death?” Roger laughed, and Novak just stayed quiet. 

“You shouldn’t steal, no matter how much you need it. You’re going to get killed.” Roger sat down on the chair opposite from Novak who was drinking the tea. The blond wondered how he could do that, considering how hot the tea was. 

“And be like Jelena?” Novak bitterly said before he chucked down the whole cup, throat burning.

“Like Jelena.” Roger nodded, knowing he shouldn’t have said the girl's name. She was dead, and Roger didn’t even know her. In Roger’s perspective however, Novak got over her death pretty quickly, no longer sobbing but there was just hurt in his eyes.

“I need my food, I’m going now.” The Serb stood up, glancing around.

Roger didn’t feel the need to say anything, so he just stood up and reached for the white plastic bag that was Novak’s and gave it to him. He showed the boy to the front door, opening it and Novak stepped out.

“Bye, Novak.” Roger said, smiling.

“Bye, Roger.” And with that, the Serb was gone.

The blond stood there until Novak was completely disappeared. It was only after he closed his door that he noticed Novak had never asked for his name.


	2. Everything was going alright for now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Novak and Andy was going to be alright, but tears and hurt will be with them. Roger was going to be alright and life was slightly better for him too, and for once, for once everything was going to be alright in the meantime for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please keep in mind that I have changed the characters' age to keep them fit for the story.

Novak avoided the police on his way back, grunting every now and then as his head throbbed and ached. He was worried, very worried about Andy. He had left the Scot all alone for the whole night. Andy wasn't a child, he was mature and he was an adult, being nineteen that is and Novak, well, he was younger. Andy was going to be sad over Jelena though; he's going to cry, but everything else was going to be alright. Novak sighed sadly at the thought of Andy and Jelena, but he strode faster down the street in the intention of getting back to Andy. 

Jelena was a smart girl, she really was. When the three of them were starving and were losing hope in starvation, she was the one that went stealing food for them. When Novak was healthy enough he went with her. The two of them targeted small shops and stores where the lack of securities were and they steal. Novak followed her and in the worst situation she saved him. 

It wasn't enough though, and on the way back home one night, sneaking around after curfew, Jelena had said in Serbian,

"Novak, I really don't think we can survive this way." 

"No one will accept people like us, Jelena. We need more food, and getting a job is not possible. We're Serbians, Jen, they hate us." Novak whispered, climbing the fence after Jelena to get into the back door of the apartment building. Going straight in from the main entrance will get them in trouble. It was after curfew, and Novak didn't want them to die.

"How about we try out the supermarket? More food in there and quality water, it's the best for Andy." She said, sliding in between the door like a shadow and carefully climb upstairs. 

"There are securities there, Jen, we will be in trouble, worse than that, the police will shoot us." The male Serb argued, hands shoved tightly in his pocket to secure the bag of food they just stole. 

"I'll go alone." She whispered in that kind tone of her's, and Novak was not, no way in ever was going to let her go alone.

Luck fucked them over though. In anyway possible it was Jelena who just had to die a pathetic death instead of those cruel inhuman police.

Sliding the key in the keyhole, Novak entered and shut the door quietly behind him as well as pushing the sad memory behind. He set the food down the table and went straight to Andy's room. He knocked. No answers. He knocked again. Worries suddenly flood over him and he couldn't help but just open the door already. 

Andy was sleeping peacefully, blanket up to his neck with his back against Novak. The Serb sighed out of relief and closed the door behind him. Poor Andy, he must've been hungry. The food was hot by the time Novak heated it up in a bowl and it was ready to eat. He knocked once again on Andy's door in the hope to wake him up or just to see if he was up already, but Novak was answered with silence. He entered again this time, setting the bowl on the bedside table.

"Andy, Andy." The Serb shook the Scot gently, looming over the shorter body on the single bed that was placed next to the window.

"Andy, wake up." Novak shook a little harder this time, and finally there were some movements. Andy stirred around, blinking his eyes sleepily before whispering so soft that Novak almost didn't hear it.

"You're back." He said.

"Yeah, I got you food." Novak smiled, reaching out to touch Andy's hair but his hand was slapped away.

"Where. Were. You?" The Scot spat angrily in his sore voice, throat clearly getting worse. He kept it quiet though, words intending for Novak to hear only. Sitting up was a problem for Andy and Novak immediately rushed to his side to help him only to have his hand slapped away like last time.

"Please Andy, don't worry about me and eat-"

“Don’t worry? You were gone, with Jelena too, for over a night without a trace and you are telling me now not to worry?" Andy asked, voice wavering as he whispered angrily. The Scot's fist was white and shaking as he gripped on the warm blanket like a lifeline. Novak’s eyes were pleading and so desperate that Andy just couldn’t miss seeing it, but the sick man on the bed just couldn’t stop.

“I was so worried, Novak, I was so scared. I thought you wouldn’t come back. I- I stayed up all night but it was too exhausting for this wreck of a body to stay awake that I fell asleep. Where were you?” Andy asked as he stared intently into the Serb's eyes, demanding to know. Novak just swallowed and scrambled close to Andy.

“I- Me and Jelena decided it would be better if we try the supermarket. Better water there and- and...” Novak trailed off, eyes darting down towards the grey carpet floor, hands fiddling with the blanket that was covering Andy’s frail and pail body. 

“Novak!” Andy hissed, hands darting to grab Novak’s calloused ones in his, the actions of Novak fiddling with the blanket and dodging the question was getting on Andy’s nerve.

“Jelena’s gone! She’s gone, Andy... She’s dead!” Novak sobbed, ripping his hands away from Andy’s. Things were escalating so quickly that Novak couldn’t help but spit out the truth. The guilt was too big, and he had contained it for long. Andy was speechless with a breath of 'what?’ puffing out. 

Andy was already crying out of shock and disbelief, but he himself didn’t even registered this yet. The Scot just blindly reached out to grab on something, just something, being that the blanket wasn’t enough. Novak just let himself be pulled in with Andy and buried his face in the others neck, wetting Andy’s knitted old sweater with overflowing tears. 

The Serb didn’t know if he could ever look Andy in the eyes again. He couldn’t break down infront of Roger, a stranger that had helped him. But he could now, with Andy here, both of them crying together. He knew Andy would ask later, but right now, it was just the two of them.

___

Roger was trying to scrunch himself together until he would disappear, but he knew that was not going to happen. His job was a waiter in a small restaurant for rich people around the area, being that he didn’t have to speak at all, but the gaze he gets every time he stepped into the restaurant was enough to drown him already. 

McEnroe, his boss was nice but aggressive. He didn’t shoot one of the dirty glances like others the first time that he sees Roger, but the blond had just think that it was because he couldn’t bring himself to care. They were short on people and when Roger came, they just took him in. 

He hurried inside and looked around the restaurant. Sighing in devastation, he pushed the door to the staff room, changed and went on to do his work.

“Roger, you have table eighteen to attend to.” Wozniacki kindly called, and Roger nodded. Adjusting his black apron on his waist and carrying the black tray, he swayed around the noisy tables in the restaurant to the corner. Table eighteen was around there, and you couldn’t see it unless you peaked around the wall. What surprised Roger was though, that Dominic, his custodian was there sitting next to a boy, or man at this point, Roger had no idea, with some other old man the tall blond had never seen.

“I would like one salad please.” It was Dominic who ordered without looking up, and Roger had hoped he would be so occupied with the menu that he wouldn’t notice Roger, but he did. Dominic looked up and exclaimed with that adorable happy face of his. It was still outstanding how Dominic was 21 but was with Roger years ago. He was young, truly young and intelligent. It was strange how he could be so mature like last night but so young as he sees Roger today.

“Roger! I didn’t know you worked here!” Roger rolled his eyes but smiled, and Dominic could tell with the way his tape curved. It must’ve been Dominic’s first time eating here.

“Do you know him?” Now it was the other man, the one that was sitting next to Roger’s young custodian, with his eyebrows raised and ignoring others' whispers on the table and the glanced at Roger. 

“Yeah, I’m his custodian, he's the one that I told you about.” Dominic smiled as Roger copied down his order looking around curiously to see if anyone else wanted to order. No one seemed to order though, and Roger just stared and nodded, his eyes slowly trailing away.

The elegant man next to Dominic smiled and nodded, and Roger wondered why he was so nice to Roger unlike others.

His eyes crinkled in a smile as Roger nodded again, heading back to the kitchen to deliver the order but not before he heard the, 'he's a fucking mute, don’t talk to him,' by one of the man but Roger just shook his head and continued to do his work. By the time his shift finished it was already near night time and he sighed, looking so tired and the thought of walking back to his apartment in the cold was unbearable.

“Roger, great work today.” Wozniacki kindly smiled. Roger loved her like a sister, as for she was the only one who had been so kind to him other than Dominic. Caroline destroyed anyone that pushed Roger around without a reason and Roger would throw hands for her. They made it out the empty restaurant together, hugged tightly before they waved. Caroline had to take the bus to the other end of town and sometimes Roger just wanted to follow her and ask if he could stay for a night because the loneliness was killing him, but he just didn’t want her to get into trouble because she was going to stay with a criminal.

He made it across the street and almost made it home when he saw someone kissing someone else. Roger just stayed quiet and lack through the scene like a shadow with his old jacket zipped up, but it was when he slightly tilled his head and slightly pulled down his fluffy scarf to the people kissing that he stood still. Roger wanted to make it home before curfew, but he couldn’t be believing his eyes that he also froze on the spot. The shorter male was Dominic, no doubt with that fluffy brown hair wavering in the wind like that, but the taller male that was smiling down at the young male was the person that was sitting next to Roger’s custodian earlier. He walked pass them but he heard Dominic said something.

“I’ve got to go now, Sascha, I have paperwork to finish.” 

“I’ll see you later, Domi.” 

Roger walked even faster, wanting to make it home before getting killed by the curfew but his mind was going crazy with the thoughts of Dominic and 'Sascha' kissing. Roger shook his head, telling himself that it wasn’t his business, but right now he was feeling like a school girl. Roger smiled hugely behind his tape, feeling better somehow with the most ridiculous reason ever, but right now life was okay, and he wouldn’t ask for more. Horrible things were going to happen to him soon, but Roger wouldn’t know. He couldn’t bring himself to care right now, with blond hair wavering in the dark and eyes closed out of relief, he walked down the dark street, approaching his apartment. His home.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on this topic and I hope you like it. Once again I am no mean to copy lunasenzanotte's story and to steal any credit or anything. Please read their story, it really truly hit me.


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